


Christmas Spirit

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-01
Updated: 2003-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike finally manages to give Buffy the perfect Christmas gift. Set in S5, post-'Into the Woods'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Spirit

Spike was well and truly buggered. There was just no other way to describe it.

Christmas wasn’t usually a big deal for demonic types. It was mostly an occasion to hide away and try to refrain from eating the annoying carolers outside. He’d blown it one year back in the thirties and had actually tried to rip the throat out of one annoying bint that had been singing ‘Come All Ye Faithful’ outside his door for twenty fucking minutes straight. She’d let out a screech even worse than her off-pitch singing. And then, when he’d decided he’d rather clutch his ears in pain than listen to that caterwauling, she’d smiled beatifically at him and offered him best holiday wishes, skipping away happily. The Christmas Spirit frightened him at times.

But that was beside the point, as were most of the thoughts that ran through his brain at a mile a minute, keeping him well and perfectly distracted and constantly leaping from one topic to another and…where was he again? Ah, right. The point.

The point was that he was well and truly buggered. See, he’d had it all worked out in his head. Another plan that couldn’t possibly go wrong. And not even _he_ could refrain from shaking his head at himself. After all, nothing ever went according to plan when a certain five-foot-two, bottle-blond, vampire-slaying love of his unlife got involved. Never. Not once. Well, maybe once. There was that one time when he popped by her house, asked if he could borrow some eggs, and escaped without incident. Except she’d given him an odd look. But that hadn’t gone from well-thought-out plan to heart-ripped-to-shreds disaster. Which was a small miracle in and of itself.

But this current plan was already hopelessly ruined. It had gone like this: Spike (very reluctantly and against his better judgment) loves Buffy. Buffy is dating Prancing Private Ponce. Buffy doesn’t love Prancing Private Ponce. As well she shouldn’t. Sadistic wanker goes and stakes him right in the heart for the thrill of beating on a…er, _not_ helpless…defenseless sounded too pathetic, too… Well, he just couldn’t fight back, right? Bloody cruel and unusual, that trick with the plastic stake had been…

So. Right. Buffy doesn’t love Corporal Punishment. Grand Git is getting his rocks off with less-than-reputable undead types. Dangerous, that. Slayer should know. Wouldn’t do to have her find out when her boyfriend tried to take a bite out of her, now would it? That, and he couldn’t exactly say he was sorry for getting that wanker in trouble. Open the door for him to sidle his way into her life just a little bit, right? What was so wrong with that?

Unfortunately, he’d discovered the answer to that question too little and too late. As much as the both of them liked to deny it, he and Buffy _knew_ each other. Something deep down inside let them see each other for what they really were. It was half of why they’d never quite managed to kill each other. They could always anticipate the next move, keep one step ahead…

Which was why he’d been completely horrified and ashamed when she walked out of that whorehouse, and the look on her face… God, he hadn’t expected the anguish there, the heartbreak. And he hadn’t expected his own heart to ache at her pain. He’d muddled it up something horrible, made her completely miserable, probably ruined the tiniest threads of friendship that had been building between them, and…

He clenched his eyelids shut tight to force away the memories, and when he opened them again, he knew more than anything that he’d well and truly buggered it all up. That seemed to be his catch phrase of the day…week…month…year?

So now here it was, Christmas Eve, and he had nothing to do and no place to go. Suddenly, his plan of wooing her with holiday favors seemed, well… _selfish_. What were a few pretty flowers and chocolates from a former enemy compared to the heartbreak that yet another lover had walked out on her? He should’ve seen that. Hadn’t his own experiences with Dru taught him just how painful letting go really was? And his innocent little Slayer…god, she’d suffered just as much as he had. If not more…

“Stupid git!” he cursed himself, slamming his fist into his favorite tree in her front yard. He didn’t even wince at the cold pain, just braced himself up against the trunk and tried to stop the strange thoughts swirling through his brain.

This had been happening more and more lately. Little dreams and whispers of how his life could be. Working by Buffy’s side every evening, being a part of her life, coming home to her bed. _Ponce_ , the demon in him screamed. But even it was starting to be won over by the picture his subconscious painted. Even worse, he’d recently taken to doing the demon-slaying part of it, even though he wasn’t getting any Slayer-shaped benefit. Sure, the thrill of the fight was there. But deep inside, he knew that wasn’t why he went out every night. It was for _her_ , to make her life just a little bit easier, a little bit safer. _Bleeding ponce…_

“Spike?”

He had been so busy beating himself up and being miserable that he hadn’t even heard her approach. He started at the sound of her voice, and quickly getting over his shame at spying on the big Scooby Christmas party, he managed to compose himself.

“Last I checked,” he retorted, all cocky swagger and wicked smirk. Just to show her up, he lit up the cigarette dangling in his mouth.

Buffy opened her mouth to protest but then shut it. After all, this was Christmas. Even irritating, bizarre vampires didn’t deserve to suffer from nicotine withdrawal on Christmas… “What are you doing here?” she inquired softly.

It was her tone that caught him off guard. Normally, she’d catch him spying on her, and she’d make with the death threats and nose punches. Not tonight, though. She seemed almost…peaceful… It made him nervous, put him on the defensive. “What are _you_ doing here?” he shot back.

Buffy raised an amused eyebrow. “Six much?” she countered with a quirk of her lips.

He snorted and switched over into nasty mode. “Don’t tell me our perfect, popular Slayer’s been left out of the festivities,” he taunted, gesturing to the party that was still visible in the window.

Buffy frowned. “I have to patrol,” she said simply, brushing past him.

He breathed in the scent of her citrus shampoo as her body grazed his and forced back a wistful sigh. Strong, powerful, and girly – the perfect woman… He suddenly wished he hadn’t pissed her off and made her leave. “B-Buffy?” He winced at how ragged and desperate his voice sounded.

She did stop, however. “What, Spike?” she asked tersely.

“I…can handle patrol tonight.” The words rushed out before his brain caught up with his mouth, and he swore inwardly at what a fool he was making of himself.

Buffy, though, gave him a confused look and took a step toward him. “What…?” she began.

“’S just…with your mum being under the weather and li’l sis getting into all kinds of trouble and everything else…” he trailed off. “It’s Christmas, pet. Go and party with your friends. You deserve it after all you’ve been through.”

Her eyes had widened throughout his speech, and by the time he finished she was gaping in shock. “I… You’ll really do this for me?” she finally asked, the hints of a genuine, delighted smile curling the edges of her lips.

He was no less shocked that she actually seemed to be accepting his offer. “Well…yeah,” he agreed, scratching the back of his neck shyly. “I mean, I can’t pretend that I’m in it for the good of mankind or that I care about all those silly sods who get themselves attacked…”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“…But I’m trying my best.” A gulp. “It’s so hard, but I’m trying my best,” he admitted, terrified yet elated at finally confessing this to her.

Her smile came back, and she actually laughed at his so-typically-Spike rambling speech. Kinda warped, but somehow…sweet, too. More human than she would’ve imagined. “What more could a girl ask for on Christmas?” she assured him. And then, on impulse, she leaned in and brushed her lips across his cold cheek. He felt more alive than she would’ve imagined. _Warm._ “Merry Christmas, Spike,” she smiled at him before heading back to her friends and family.

He watched her go, completely flabbergasted. Belatedly, his hand reached up to feel the lingering heat her lips had left on his cheek. Slowly, a smile spread across his face, and he felt a bit of the old cheer he’d only experienced back in his human days bubble up inside of him once more. He hadn’t buggered it up for once. He’d actually found a way to give her something she wanted, something she needed and liked. Finally. It made him feel alive, wanted… _happy_.

“Merry Christmas to you, too, my love,” he whispered softly to the closed door before he vanished into the shadows to complete her present.

Maybe the Christmas Spirit wasn’t so lost on him, after all…


End file.
